


Museum Ghost

by theAsh0



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAsh0/pseuds/theAsh0
Summary: It’s not a normal museum. Bucky knows that much.for Bucky's Barn (discord)theme was "hold my hand", prompt: museum
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4





	Museum Ghost

It’s not a normal museum. Bucky knows that much.

For one thing, no one ever comes there. Though there’s treasures and beautiful works to be found. Paintings of sunsets and marble statues of boys and men and a pretty little girl with wide eyes and a coy smile. Bucky imagines she has brown locks, though of course the grey marble doesn’t tell him that.

For another, the doors and windows had been boarded up till only a few months ago. The place had stood desolate and empty, until he’d wondered upon it. A beautiful mansion, in the middle of no-where. And Buky had felt so drawn to it that he’d broken open the doors and has been unboarding the windows. Cleaning and airing section after section, one at the time. So far, no one has told him off. No one has told him to stop. 

That’s another strange thing. No one has told him _anything,_ since he’s got here. No one has been here. No one has come; no one has tried to make him leave, no one has tried to take him away. Bucky has seen no one. Not outside, not inside.

But, he’s not alone. He’s not!

There’s a creature that lives with him inside these walls. A ghost; a phantom that he sometimes hears, sometimes feels the presence of. Yet, never sees. Not because it is afraid of him. Bucky knows, down to his bones, that this monster is afraid of nothing. No, Bucky is afraid of it. Runs and hides himself; folds himself up under the counter at baggage claim until the danger is gone. Till it’s left him be.

Until today.

Yes, today is the day, Bucky will find it. His phantom. His poltergeist. Today, when he hears it bustle above him Bucky does not run. Does not fall back to the lobby. Today, Bucky goes in pursuit. Through the rooms with statues and painting. Up the stairs, slowly; listen to it whisper to the pieces in the next room, it’s favourite room.

The room with the fossil collection, Bucky thinks he finally catches a glimpse it just as it turns a corner. A Flash of gold, as if moves on oblivious or uncaring easy to follow. It is loud and unapologetic. Big and strong. Not afraid of him; not of Bucky, and yet Bucky finds himself chasing it anyway. Picking up his steps, still as quiet as he can, but hurried now, for fear of losing his quarry. It is...

It is a unicorn. It _has_ to be. Heavy hooved and strong, able to kick his teeth in on a whim. It has to be; Bucky can see its golden swirl behind it as he skids after it, around another corner, another bend. Bucky is close, almost there. He can tell by the thunder of hooves, proud like drums.

And then, silence. Bucky skids to a halt; near at the entrance of the room. The next room. Eyes the entrance in anticipation. 

Peeking in, heart beating in his throat, he looks. 

And the beast looks back: a big, heavy jaw. A star-shaped horn upon it’s head. It sees him, then backs away. Unafraid; but inviting. Pulling him, taunting him. And so, Bucky steps up, with every intention to follow.

Until he sees that passage it has led him: modern art. The biggest, the baddest section this place holds. Rows upon rows of Jason-Pollock like pieces. Wild and hard and black and Red-red-red.

Bucky’s never been in this section before.

Stood on the threshold, yes.

But never gone in.

This place, it gives him the creeps. And, it’s dark out, now. Was it dark out before? Looking in, he can see the walls, red as blood with canvases depicting the worst, the worst and he doesn’t need to know what they say, what the little title signs tell him; he knows.

Bucky swallows, once, and enters. 

The shadow of his unicorn steps back again, then that star-shape light from it’s horn grows, glows brighter. Illuminating the walls and the paintings and the blood-Bucky does not look at the blood. And the unicorn shrinks, shrinks. Until it is but a fae, an elf. A fine, delicate creature of a man-boy, with beautiful, blond hair and fierce eyes.

Yet Bucky knows it is still that unicorn. Or, perhaps a dragon. Still as strong and willful and he-will-not-look-away. Because if he does, the blood and the Jason Pollocks will eat him alive. Tear him apart until there’s nothing-nothing left. But, they will not, because his patron is here. His protector, hidden in a garnish appearance and a star on his shield. 

And Bucky had dreamed him before, of course. A magic beast with golden hair that would carry him away. Let him escape. This creature is the thing of hope and dreams. But, his Unicorn, his fae is real. Bucky has seen him; touched him. _Fought_ him, and caught him. And, even if he’d forget all that: Bucky knows it’s protection is the reason no-one has; no one will come and take him from this place of memories.

“…Steve?”

**Author's Note:**

> idk if anyone wants to know but the idea is the Museum is Bucky's memories and he's remembering Steve and realising he is real, and that ne doesn't need to run.


End file.
